


Think You Might Break; Think You Might Fall

by Taste_is_Sweet



Series: Soldiers of Fire and Shadows [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, At Least He Gets a Hug Too, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hydra are dicks, M/M, Reports of Bucky Barnes' Death are Greatly Exaggerated, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Gets a Hug, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, because hydra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 19:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10860114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_is_Sweet/pseuds/Taste_is_Sweet
Summary: Steve hasn't weakened enough that other people might notice, but Matt isn't other people. He's worried. Maybe that makes him a hypocrite, but this isn't the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, this isCaptain America. Matt knows his city needs Daredevil, but he has no illusions about how replaceable he is. Ultimately, it's always been easy for people to leave him behind.Steve, on the other hand…The whole world needs Steve. He can't go on like this, the grief will kill him.So the next night, when Steve goes into Morningside Park, Matt makes sure Steve knows he's there.





	Think You Might Break; Think You Might Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shazrolane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazrolane/gifts).



> The title comes from the song [We Got Love](https://youtu.be/IguqYwGm69E) by Walk off the Earth. (Honestly, I could probably write a fic for every one of their songs.)

Sometimes, Matt Murdock likes to shadow Steve Rogers when he runs at night.

'Like' isn't the right word—there's nothing enjoyable here, witnessing the concrete progression of another man's pain—but he still does it.

It started a few weeks after S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed in a fiery apocalypse over the Potomac. Foggy and Karen were beside themselves, overawed in the way that comes with the sudden, violent dismantling of something previously taken for granted. Matt knows what that feels like intimately, but it was harder to be astonished or concerned when he literally couldn't see it happening. Unlike the immediate, proximal threats of Fisk and the Hand, S.H.I.E.L.D. felt far too distant and ethereal to mean much. 

He was, of course, relieved that Hydra's plan failed, especially when Karen reported that the three of them were on the list of targets. Apparently law firms that fought for actual justice were dangerous.

Ironic how that became moot a few months later.

(Daredevil was on the list as well, which Matt expected. He was just happy Hydra never connected the vigilante with the blind lawyer.)

Matt felt badly for all the dead agents, and he went to the vigils and memorials along with Foggy and Karen. But the loss of the institution itself didn't bother him. America was already top-heavy with secret organizations. One less wouldn't make a difference.

He didn't care much about S.H.I.E.L.D., but he cares very much about Captain America.

Foggy and Karen told him about the disappearance of the Winter Soldier, and how he was really Bucky Barnes, Captain America's best friend and the longest-serving Prisoner of War.

They also told him how Captain America was the only one who refused to believe Bucky was dead, that his lifelong friend was killed when the helicarrier he fought Rogers to save crashed into the river. Foggy gave Matt periodic updates on the search, which became fewer and farther between as 2014 wore on. Foggy's enthusiasm died with Rogers' optimism. In the spring of 2015, James Buchanan Barnes was officially declared Killed In Action.

He was buried in March in Arlington. Karen, Matt and Foggy listened to Steve's eulogy for him.

It was a beautiful, moving tribute to Rogers' lost brother-in-arms. But beneath the words, Matt could hear the desperate pounding of Rogers' heartbeat and the waver in his voice; the way the podium creaked under the relentless pressure of his fingers. Matt could hear the depth of Rogers' grief in every minute stutter of his breath.

Matt couldn't stand it, because he knew exactly how Steve felt.

He knew it from a dark alley and the smell of death and bullet propellant, and the slick heat of blood on his hands. He remembered it from the long, long, terrifying days thereafter, when everything he heard or touched or tasted or smelled would overwhelm him like water overwhelms someone drowning. And he remembered it from the nights, years and years later, when the only way he could sleep was to come back with blood on his hands.

Captain America wasn't just mourning a friend. Steve Rogers had lost his soul.

Matt knew what that felt like and it terrified him. He wanted nothing to do with it. He had more than enough pain of his own.

But the first time he recognized Steve's familiar scent and the cadence of his heart, he followed him. He wasn't sure why.

He never figures it out, either. Not during the hot, ferocious summer that bleeds into the cold, deathly winter of 2015. Steve's gone for most of it, either upstate at the Avengers' Facility or fighting robot armies half way around the world. Matt's glad for the reprieve, except this is the year when Elektra comes back into his life, and then Fisk, and then Frank Castle implodes and takes Nelson and Murdock with him.

(The last part's not Frank's fault. Matt knows it's not Frank's fault. It's his. It's always his. But at least this time he chose to make Foggy and Karen leave him before they could do it themselves. Especially before he damaged them more than he already had. He misses his friends like he misses his sight, but they're better off without him. Everyone is.)

And then the winter comes. Steve returns to the city and Elektra dies, and Matt starts following Steve again, because at least here's someone else who'll understand.

It's late October and Matt knows he needs to stop this. Steve has enough ghosts of his own. He doesn't need Matt as another one. Matt thinks about actually approaching him, maybe even telling Steve who he is. It's a heady, tempting thought: someone who could fathom the parameters of his grief and guilt; who could accept the life Matt's chosen. But Matt doesn't go near him.

It's because he likes Steve. Likes him a great deal, despite only speaking to him a handful of times when he worked with the Avengers. Steve is smart, with a dry, unexpected sense of humor. Steve knows how to be quiet, and he knows how to listen. He doesn't back down on what he thinks is right, and he's stubborn in a way Matt appreciates.

He likes Steve. So he makes sure to keep his distance, because he'll ruin it the way he ruins everything. Devils don't have friends.

But he can't make himself stop following him.

Steve barely sleeps, as far as Matt can tell. He comes out after midnight and runs for hours, going so fast it's a challenge to keep up with him. He often ends up in Brooklyn, and Matt can't help wondering if he's retracing the steps he knew from before the war. It's hard to imagine anything's the same. Matt wonders what Steve sees.

Steve gets worse, softly deteriorating as winter closes like a fist over the city. It's December and Christmas is everywhere, but Steve's heartbeat and breathing just get more tense and ragged. He starts his runs earlier and doesn't go back to Avengers Tower until dawn creeps in on an icy breath of morning. His steps get slower, more erratic. He isn't eating enough; his feet hit with less force on the concrete and he produces less heat as he moves. He's more stressed, Matt can smell it. Grief hangs from him like a shroud.

He hasn't weakened enough that other people might notice, but Matt isn't other people. He's worried. Maybe that makes him a hypocrite, but this isn't the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, this is _Captain America_. Matt knows his city needs Daredevil, but he has no illusions about how replaceable he is. Ultimately, it's always been easy for people to leave him behind.

Steve, on the other hand…The whole world needs Steve. He can't go on like this, the grief will kill him.

So the next night, when Steve goes into Morningside Park, Matt makes sure Steve knows he's there.

Steve stops, whirls into a defensive crouch. He doesn't have his shield with him, but that doesn't mean he's vulnerable. "Who's there?"

"Daredevil." Matt comes out of the handful of shadows under the trees with his hands up and his sticks safe in their holster on his thigh. The air tastes like car exhaust and ice, Steve's misery writhing underneath like a living thing. "I've been following you."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve straightens, relaxes a little. His hands are in loose fists but Matt isn't in danger. "Why?"

Matt rubs the back of his neck, wishing abruptly he'd decided to come in his street clothes tonight. The Daredevil outfit normally feels like protection, but here it just feels like a barrier. He leaves his cowl up all the same. The Avengers don't know who he really is and he needs to keep it that way. If they find out he's Matt Murdock they'll know he's blind, and revealing that kind of weakness is death. Stick literally beat that into him.

But the outfit makes it harder for him to feel like Matt Murdock. Matt has a way with words; Daredevil doesn't need them. But right now that means he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry about Bucky," is what comes out of his mouth.

Steve's stance doesn't change, but his heartbeat speeds up. His fists get a little tighter. "Thank you," he says tightly. "If that's all—"

"It's not," Matt says quickly. He goes closer. "I've been where you are. Recently, even. But you…." He wants to tell him to stop destroying himself, that it won't help alleviate any of the pain. But he listens to Steve's heart and his lungs, breathes in the scent of Steve's mourning, and he's sure that Steve's as aware of his slow, inexorable plummet as Matt is of his own, and that it makes just as little difference.

"I wanted to tell you you're not alone," Matt says instead. "You don't have to carry the pain by yourself."

Steve's jaw works. "I appreciate what you're trying to do." Matt wouldn't buy that even if he couldn't hear the uptick in Steve's heartbeat that frames the lie. "But I don't want to talk about it. Bucky…" He swallows. "Bucky's dead. And he died horribly after a living hell I can't even imagine. And he…he was…." Steve shakes his head. When he blinks it sounds like a fluttering of wings. He breathes like someone trying very hard not to cry. "I'm sorry, but I really…" He has to stop when his voice cracks. He puts his hand over his mouth for a moment, and now Matt can taste the tears brimming in his eyes. "I really don't think you can say you've been where I am."

"Maybe not," Matt says honestly. He goes closer. "But when I said you're not alone, I meant it. My father died when I was ten. He was gunned down by the mafia for refusing to take a fall in a fight. Because he didn't want to disappoint me." It's been twenty years, and that last part still hasn't gotten easier to say. "I was at our apartment. I'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table waiting for him. There was this, _'bang!'_ that woke me up. And I just…" He swallows, grateful now for the barrier of his outfit, because he's so glad Steve can't see his face. "I just knew that he was dead. Even before I went out there and found him. And then, a month ago, someone else I loved was killed right in front of me."

"I'm sorry," Steve says.

He means it, which is why Matt shakes his head. "That's not why I'm here. I wasn't looking for your sympathy. Just to tell you that, even if I haven't been where you are, lost what you've lost, I've still had to wash the blood of loved ones off my hands. So…maybe I haven't been quite as far away from where you are as you might think."

Steve keeps silent, wiping his eyes. "Bucky was more than my best friend," he says finally. "I had him even when I had nothing. He was…He was…." He grits his teeth, wiping his eyes again. "Damn it." He takes a few more breaths, then speaks with the kind of soft, precise control of someone who should be screaming. "He'd been dead for less than two weeks when I went into the ice. I've been…I've been mourning him since I woke up. And then, about a month before…before S.H.I.E.L.D. went down, I'd actually begun to think that maybe I'd be all right without him. Not _happy,_ but. All right."

"And then he came back," Matt says.

"Yeah," Steve says on a near-silent breath. "And he died again, because I couldn't….I thought I could reach him. That he'd remember me. That I'd be enough—" He cuts himself off. His breath stutters through his clenched teeth. "That's twice." His voice shivers like water. "Twice I've failed him when he's needed me the most. And you know what the worst thing is? There was always a part of me that never believed he was dead. That kept waiting for him to come back." His laugh is devoid of anything but pain. "And then he did. And for…for a moment I thought I could save him. That I'd have something left. But now I have to stop waiting, too. He's gone, and I have nothing. He won't…."

Steve slaps his hand over his mouth again, as if he's trying to keep the anguish locked in his throat. It doesn't work. He chokes out a sob that sounds like it splinters his chest, and then another and another until there's no hope of controlling them. "Oh, God. Oh, God. He's gone. Bucky's gone." Steve's weight shifts and Matt grabs him and hauls him into an embrace, before Steve's knees buckle under the weight of more sorrow than anyone should bear.

Steve clings to him. His grip is so tight it hurts. Matt ignores it, murmuring things like how Steve will survive this, how he'll be okay, how he's not alone. Especially that he's not alone. The words probably make no difference, but Matt remembers being held like this, and how important it was just to have someone's voice there. Like a rope in the dark.

Mostly he just holds on.

It takes a long time for Steve's tears to stop, long enough that Matt's toes are numb from the cold and his fingers hurt, despite his gloves and the heat of the body he's holding.

Steve loosens his grip and steps back. He wipes his nose on his jacket sleeve and then uses his hand to clear his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Matt asks, genuinely confused. "You did nothing wrong."

"Okay." Steve sniffs, still wiping his eyes. "Thank you," he says softly.

"You're welcome."

"I don't know what to do anymore," Steve says. "Bucky's dead, and it's like…" He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath that at least settles steadily in his lungs. "There's no point. There's just no point anymore. I keep going because I have to, because people depend on me." He gives an ugly little smirk. "I'm Captain fucking America. I can't just…stop."

Matt doesn't know if Steve means quitting or something far worse. He doesn't want to know, so he doesn't ask. "You'll have to stop if you don't take better care of yourself."

"I know. But I just…." He shakes his head. "There's no point."

"Do it for Bucky, then, if you can't for yourself," Matt says. "That helped me. At least somewhat." He excelled in school because that was what his father had wanted for him. Some days a dead man's expectations was the only motivation Matt had. "Keep going for Bucky until you can remember how to do it for yourself."

"Do you do this because of the people you lost?"

The question is loaded with as much challenge as curiosity. _Do you take your own advice, Matt?_ So, "Yes," he lies. He's a lawyer because of Jack Murdock. He's Daredevil because the darkness inside him likes other people's blood on his hands. Elektra's death only galvanized that. The fact the people he hurts deserve it just means he doesn't need to feel as guilty.

"Does it help?"

Matt nods. "Yes." He smiles a little. "Some nights more than others. But it helps."

"Okay," Steve says quietly. "Thanks." He looks up over Matt's shoulder to where the dawn is about to break. "We should go before people see us."

"Yeah." Matt backs up. "Take care, Steve."

"You too." Matt hears the slight intake of breath as he starts walking. It sounds like Foggy when he's deciding to speak, so he stops and turns back. "What is it?"

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Not today." Matt smiles, then goes before Steve can ask him anything else.

He should have refused outright; he doesn't know why he didn't.

(Of course he does. It's the same reason he doesn't actually want to leave now. Which is exactly why he has to. Matt destroys everything and everyone he cares about, and Steve's already broken.)

Aren't we all, Matt thinks, as he slips into the shadows ahead of the coming daylight. Aren't we all.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr says Hello.](http://taste-is-sweet.tumblr.com/) And since you're here, you must like AUs! [Come check this out!](https://whatifau.tumblr.com/About%20Us)


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